


Brother's Keeper

by JustAnotherWriter (N1ghtshade)



Series: Advent Calendar Gift Fics [9]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Bozer is a good big brother, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 21:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/pseuds/JustAnotherWriter
Summary: Bozer learned a lot in spy school. But they didn't teach him how to not worry when his best friend, no, his little brother, is bleeding out in front of him.





	Brother's Keeper

Bozer learned a lot of things in spy school. He learned how not to panic when he’s faced with what looks like an impossible situation. He learned how to spot lies in interrogation. He learned how to disarm a man five ways with a crayon. (Okay, maybe that one was Mac…)

They didn’t tell him what to do when he and Mac got separated from the rest of the team, and Mac fell through a section of ruined floor in the abandoned building they were hunting a bunch of terrorists in, and got a big, nasty gash up his leg from a piece of rebar that was sticking out the side of the hole. 

Mac’s trying to talk him through what to do. “It’s going to keep bleeding till we do something about it. You have a medical kit in your pack. I need you to glue it.”

Bozer’s incredibly grateful they use a type of super glue for field injuries. He doesn’t think he could stomach stitching up Mac’s leg. 

He’s still not sure he can do it when he pulls out the glue and leans over the bloodied gash. He has to press the edges of the wound shut to seal it with the glue, and his gloved fingers slide on hot blood. He thinks he might be sick.

“Mac, I don’t know if I can do this.” He knows it sounds stupid but he really doesn’t know if he can hold his best friend, damn it, his  _ little brother’s _ , torn, bleeding leg together long enough for this to set. His stomach is flipping. He hates the sight of injuries like this. Ever since Josh, and the gun…

“It’s going to be fine. Trust me. But you have to do it now, because if I lose too much more blood I’m not gonna be able to get to exfil.” Bozer knows Mac’s not lying, the concrete around them is saturated red.

“I just suck at this stuff! Jack’s like a literal superhero, Riley at least doesn’t get emotional over stuff like this, Leanna’s mom was an EMT…”

“Boze, you’ve been taking care of me since I was eight. You’ve got this.” Mac twists a bloodied hand around Bozer’s. “You can do this.”

Bozer nods and tries to ignore the feeling of the torn skin under his hands.  _ Pretend it’s part of a mask. You’re gluing a mask. _ He finishes as fast as he can, rips the gloves off, and throws them away. He pulls Mac’s arm around his shoulder and helps Mac to his feet. Mac groans softly, the only sound he’s made thus far has been a harsh, strangled panting, and Boze doesn’t know how he does it. 

And then they hit stairs. Of course they’re in the freaking basement. They have to go up to get out, the place has been abandoned for years and the elevator is a terrifying ruin. 

Bozer hears Mac groan softly. “We’ve got this,” Boze says, trying to sound lighthearted. He glances around, seeing some old electrical wires, and a plan comes to mind. “Remember how we were always champs at Field Days in the three legged race?”

Somehow he manages to secure Mac’s wounded leg to his. There’s probably a better way to do this, but Mac’s starting to get loopy from the blood loss and mutter about things like the coefficient of friction and equations about gravity. Boze doesn’t really want to think about gravity right now. 

He slings Mac’s arm securely over his shoulder. They take one slow step, then another. Blood is soaking the leg of Bozer’s pants, and all he can think is that if Mac stumbles, they’re both screwed.  _ Maybe I should have tried dragging him up. Or not tying our legs together. _ But either one of those has downsides. Dragging him risks banging Mac’s leg against the metal stairs and reopening the wound. And letting his injured leg hang loose risks his foot catching on a step and knocking him down, and they can’t risk him falling.

Boze breathes a sigh of relief when they reach the top of the stairs. There’s yelling and gunfire in the distance, and he’s glad they’re nowhere near it. He pulls Mac under the cover of some trees near the building and helps him lean against one of the trunks. Mac’s exhausted and barely staying upright, but Boze is afraid if he lays down he won’t get up again. 

He has to keep Mac awake. “Hey Mac, this tree isn’t poisonous, is it?”

“No. This is a black oak. The acorns can make a decent flour substitute if they’re roasted before you grind them into a powder.” He glances at the ground, as if he’s looking for some this minute. Boze would encourage it if he thought it might help. “And the leaves have tannins in them, which can be used to cure leather.”  _ That’s not what I want to cure right now. _ “That’s poisonous though. Poison ivy, to be precise,” Mac says, glancing at the odd little three-leafed plant all around them. “That’s not fun.” 

**Seventy-two hours later…**

“It’s not fair that you’re immune to poison ivy,” Bozer grumbles, rubbing a third layer of benadryl over his swollen, itching ankles. 

“Well, I  _ did _ get a piece of rebar through my leg, so I think my injury is a little more serious,” Mac grins from the infirmary bed. 

“At least you get to be on pain medication so you don’t feel anything.” Bozer tries very hard to think about anything other than his legs. “I can’t even sleep.” 

“Neither can I,” Mac mutters. “It’s too noisy in here and I hate the smell. How ‘bout you get me out of here and I whip up something to numb your ankles?”

“Deal.” 

  
  



End file.
